


I've Got You Under My Skin

by angemacabre



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 50s, Barman Nile Dok, Crush at First Sight, Double bass player Hange Zoë, Erwin is like in his 20s, F/M, Jazz - Freeform, Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mention of Eren Yeager - Freeform, Mention of Jean Kirstein - Freeform, New York City, Other, Pianist Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reader doesn't have a particular gender tbh, Reader-Insert, Saxophonist Isabel Magnolia, Singer Erwin Smith, Trombonist Mike Zacharias, Trumpeter Furlan Church, Younger Erwin Smith, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 17:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15224114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angemacabre/pseuds/angemacabre
Summary: You come to New York City but run away from your family when they go too far. You end in a bar called "The Wings of Freedom" and meet a charming blond man.





	I've Got You Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this fan fic while listening to Frank Sinatra's songs to be honest.  
> I hope you'll enjoy. This time I didn't get any help to correct it so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Kudos and comments are appreciated.

Year 1958, you, a young woman/man/person in her/his/their 20s from London came to New York City to visit your family.

It's your first time in America, you discover the city that never sleeps with eyes full of curiosity and excitation. However, in the evening, during dinner time, you have to stay with these people who are supposed to be from the same bloodline as you. You half listen to conversations, your eyes exploring the area and finding interesting elements in the room to look at. Everyone is dressed nicely, sitting at a long and fancy table full of different types and definitely expensive food. Your elbow rests on the table, cheek in hand, you don't really care if it isn't polite and indecent. They all are lost in their little worlds, money, power, sex. Said Christians sinning a bit too much, you're sure they all know the seven deadly sins like best friends. New York is such a beautiful city but instead of enjoying your stay you are stuck with your, rotten from inside, family. Your other hand, starting to get bored, plays with your napkin until it moves to something more interesting. You delicately lift a silver knife and look at your distorted reflection. For tonight, you decided to put on an elegant dark blue dress/suit, your (h/l) (h/c) hair styled in loose curls/pushed back. You put down the knife before you lose yourself looking at your own image for the eternity like the poor Narcissus or get tired of your face. Words make you surface back to the unpleasant real world. Racism. Misogyny. Homophobia. Of course, these rich bastards can't keep their inhuman opinions to themselves. You try to stay strong, to cover your heart with a thick blanket made of stones to not be touched by these sickening profanities. It works, but not forever. You know if you stay here longer you'll get furious and make a fuss. No need to waste words for these pitiful creatures, they'll never listen and will only call you crazy.

You get up, walk to the door, your fists clenched at your sides. While slipping on your coat, you can hear a far away noise coming from your mother, probably asking who's got into you. You open the door and slam it behind you, not caring of the consequences of your act when you'll come back. You run down the stairs and open wide the doors giving on a nice paved road, away from these snakes. You stand there for a while, eyes closed, concentrating on the fresh air filling and escaping your lungs. You slowly start to calm down and decide to walk alone in the dark streets illuminated every now and then by soft lights. You close your coat and hug yourself to warm up but to also feel safer in this unknown place. On your adventure under the American stars you suddenly remember less magical things you heard about New York. Murders. Of course murders occur in London too, but homicides in Britain aren't as bestial and barbarian as the ones in these United States. Your eyes widen and an unpleasant shiver runs down your spin when you revive in your mind what Jean reported to you. Stupid Frenchman. Bloody dumb frog. Your eyebrows furrow, the sudden urge to hit Horseface taking over you. Next time your German friend will try to beat up Kirstein, you will let him do. You nod slightly at the thought. Abruptly reality bumps into, you excuse to the man you accidentally pushed and keep on your track. The night seems now less charming than earlier, you glance around with fear, your steps getting shorter and quicker.

You lose yourself in this big city, panic taking over you until you hear some Jazz being played. You listen and follow the nice music, this might be the way to the witch's house but the candies at the end are worth it. After a few minutes you stand before a bar, you look inside through the windows, so warm and welcoming, you immediately get in without thinking twice. A pleasant atmosphere prevails in this captivating place. There's a sweet smell running in the air, a mix of smoke and alcohol, which is surprisingly not suffocating. But there's also something odd reminding you of something you can't put your finger on, the reminiscence of nostalgia. You get to the counter and ask more about this place to a black haired man with a long face sporting a light moustache and a goatee. All these questions make him understand that you're not from here. You tell him, nonchalantly waving your hand in the air, that you're a lost British who escaped from her/his/their family. Your situation pushes him to call you Juliet/Romeo which makes you snort. You shake your head a little, he proposes you a cup of tea and you look at him with a small smile on your lips. "Are you serious ?"

"Of course."

He smirks and you chuckle. You move your eyes away from him to search for your wallet in your pockets. Happily, it is here. You look up but the barman is long gone, you look around but the only thing which you can spot is a glass of alcohol he left for you.You mouth a 'thank you' before taking a sip. Not bad.

After putting your drink back on the counter the music catches your ears again, you turn your head and watch the musicians playing. You can't help your fingers from tapping against your glass, it's so catchy. The pianist seems to be a short man, he has raven hair pushed back and a cigarette between thin lips, his long fingers hit the black and white keys like they're on fire, his head can't stay in place and moves a little to the rhythm. A huge man plays the trombone, you feel like looking up at him must be as breathtaking as looking up at the Empire State Building, bangs of dirty blond hair cover his eyes but you can notice a moustache and beard from your place. At the bass there's a tall, man or woman, you can't really tell, with brown hair pulled in a ponytail and glasses resting on their nose, the big grin on their face and fingers moving fast on the strings are enough to tell you that they're having fun. Surprisingly, a pretty young woman is playing to saxophone, her red hair and freckles make you think that she's definitely from the Celtic islands. A handsome young man with a trumpet and dark blond hair stands next to her. Done with your instigation about the artists playing you start to admire them. They're so beautiful in their suits, they manage to put so much happiness and passion in their music and you can see it by the way they move with their instruments.

The music changes to a song, a small smile plays on your lips when you recognise the work of the Gershwin brothers that Sinatra recorded for his album, _Songs for Young Lovers._

And finally your eyes fall on the singer. You wonder why the bloody Hell you didn't notice him before. You wonder if this gentleman is a ladies man like Frank. You take another sip to wet your sudden dry mouth and you give your full attention to the angelic blond. The singer is absolutely handsome, by his look you'd say German, tall, blond, blue eyes, gotta love the stereotype. Above his deep icy blue eyes stand two bushy eyebrows which you didn't notice before since they suit him so well. He pushed back his light blond hair, you wonder, is running your hand in it is like running your hand in wheat ? A crooked nose, is it this way because of a fight ? A chiselled jawline, will it cut if you run your finger on it ? A stubble beard, it definitely suits him. Refined lips, do they taste like whiskey or tobacco ? Strong arms, they must feel so nice around you. You shake your head a little to get these thoughts away, don't dream about a man you just saw. You concentrate on the song again but your eyes fall back on his lips. His voice is low, husky, smooth, like the voice of a mermaid, it charms you completely.

This Adonis eventually beholds your stare and gives you a small smile between

" _I saw you standing right there_ "

and

" _in foggy London town, the sun was shining everywhere_ ".

It went straight to your heart, your breath got caught in your throat. This attractive man of New York is singing about your London. Coincidence ? Your books about romance tell you not. Also, isn't this song in _A Damsel in Distress_ ? Aren't you a damsel/damoiseau in distress right now ? Alright, this is fate.

You give back the smile with a faint blush spreading over your cheeks, caused by alcohol, you tell yourself but more like caused by your fast beating heart racing at the thought of the man getting interested by you. You keep listening to the gentleman which seems to last forever and a day, but what a nice eternity, is paradise like this ?

Unfortunately the group has to stop at some point to take a break. The man of your dreams, gets down from the podium with a small jump fit for _Singin' in the Rain_. You look away before he catches you staring at him again, the liquid inside of your glass becoming suddenly really interesting. Surprisingly, the Greek God takes a seat right next to you and orders a whisky on the rocks, you stop your jaw from dropping when you notice his silhouette close from yours. A whisky ? His lips definitely taste like alcohol, which must be quite agreeable from such lovely kisser. You feel his eyes on you, you bite the inside of your cheek praying to whoever to not become a tomato.

"Are you from here ? I never saw you in the Wings of Freedom before."

Is he talking to you ? Oh my, it seems so. You manage to say without stuttering, which should be congratulated:

"No, I kind of lost myself in the streets and ended here after hearing the music."

Before he has the time to answer, the barman, when did he come back ? adds details for you.

"She/he/they is/are British. All new in the city. A lost kitten who took refuge in there. Poor Juliet/Romeo."

The blond man whistles in admiration. "British ? I've never been in Europe before. Well to be honest I never left New York. You're Juliet/Romeo that's right ? The name's Erwin."

He shows a hand for you to shake it. You chuckle and shake his hand, adding a little of pressure to show him you're not a "kitten", his feels incredibly warm and soft. You look at him.

"Actually my name is ______ but Mr Dawk apparently has a thing for nicknames."

Erwin shakes back your hand, and you mentally repeat his name over and over again in your head, what a b-

"______ ? What a beautiful name."

He gives you a smile when letting go of your hand.

"And yeah, don't mind Nile, he teases a lot but deep inside he has a big and soft heart."

"Fuck off, Eyebrows."

The man in question grumbles while serving Erwin his drink. A chuckle leaves your lips again.

"I can see that."

Erwin drinks and turns to you, a gentle smile playing on his kind features.

"So how's life in England ?"

A conversation starts between you two. After a few more drinks you eased up around him and almost managed to talk to him normally, almost because a faint blush didn't want to leave your cheeks during the entire talk. Questions about yourself slipped out of these whisky lips, you laughed, is the charming prince a detective ? He laughed with you. It was only fair for him to answer to a few questions too. Erwin Smith is 27 and was born in New York, his father taught him a lot of things and gave him his passion and adoration for Jazz. You learned that all the members of the group are his friends, he also gave you a few anecdotes about them which made you laugh and one which made you choke on your drink and blush even more. He told you in details things about books and history. He seemed devoted and really smart. You concluded that Erwin Smith is as beautiful from inside as he's from outside. Nile left you two alone by saying "I don't want to bother the lovebirds.", Erwin smiled at this and you thought you'd faint if he kept showing these perfect white teeth of his. You after talked about your hobbies, places you love, your definitions of happiness, so many things and the discussion felt so natural, it felt like you are old friends being reunited by life, you'd prefer lovers though.

 

By now it must have been hours since you lost yourselves in the sound of your voices. Erwin's group kept playing without him, leaving their friend flirting with the pretty woman/man/person. You two are now in a comfortable silence, listening to the enchanting music. Erwin gets an idea and suddenly gets up.

"______, dance with me."

"What ??"He smiles slightly at your surprised expression.

"Dance with me." You think about it for a few seconds.

"No... Sorry, it isn't a good idea, really."

"Come on !"

"No. I have two left feet and a poker up the arse." Alcohol allowed you to speak more freely but Erwin was having none of it.

"Dance with me. Please, please, please, ______ !" You sigh.

He's acting like a kid asking to a girl/boy/kid to play with him. You have to admit that it's kind of cute but you're so scared to step on his feet or to do something wrong.

"______, plea-"

"Alright, alright."

You give up maybe too easily but how can you say no to these puppy eyes ? You get off of your seat, body a bit aching from sitting for so long. Erwin doesn't lose his time and takes your smaller hand in his, leading you to the dance floor. Here other couples are dancing together, gracefully moving to the rhythm set by the instruments. The song is impulsive and restless forcing the dancers to let the music possess them and go through their muscles and bones to be able to follow the swing. You laugh in Erwin's arms when he ridiculously shakes you from left to right while drawing circles on the floor with his shoes and yours.

"Erwin stop ! Ahah please, bloody Hell, I'll throw up if you keep like that !" A big smile doesn't leave your lips.

"It wouldn't be ladylike/manly, would it ?"

He slows down, you look into his icy but yet warm blue eyes, and he looks back into your (e/c) ones. The time stops. The Earth stops spinning. The lovers hold their breath. At this moment a sparkle of love started between the American singer and the British beauty, creating small flames in their hearts.

"Of course not..."

You answer, a bit lost into the windows to his soul. The song changes, adapting to the atmosphere reigning, calmer, more romantic, Erwin goes for a waltz. The night ends with your head against his shoulder, your hand in his and a protective arm around your waist. You slowly close your eyes, fulfilled and satisfied of the events.

You then hear Erwin whisper the lyrics of the song played.

" _The world will pardon my mush_

 _'Cause I have got a crush, my baby, on you_ "

You don't have the time to think about his words and the tenderness he put into them before you feel warm lips over yours. Your eyes widen slightly before closing again, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back as softly as you can while you keep going with your slow dance in his loving embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 ?
> 
> The title is I've Got You Under My Skin by Frank Sinatra, I also mentioned A Foggy Day (in London Town) and I've Got A Crush On You.


End file.
